The Stranger at the Bar Asked Me to Call Him Master

There was still daylight coming through the tall windows when he walked through the door of the bar where I work. He wasn’t an ordinary man. I knew it from the way he moved: unhurried, as if the place belonged to him and I were part of the furniture he’d come to inspect. His eyes found mine at once, and a barely-there smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He had a strong jaw, broad shoulders, and lips I decided I wanted to bite before he’d said a single word. He was wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and beneath the fabric I could make out a well-built body. What would he look like without that clothes? What kind of cock does he have?, I thought, and immediately scolded myself for letting my mind wander that far in the middle of a shift.

I snapped out of my daydream when he leaned on the bar and lowered his voice.

—Hi, pretty thing. Can I get a beer?

The smile with which he said it left the words stuck in my throat. I decided not to speak, to turn around and pour him the drink before he noticed the heat climbing my neck and the wetness already starting to soak my panties.

—Here you go —I murmured, setting the glass in front of him.

—Tell me something, princess. Are you busy tonight? Would you let me take you for a walk when you get off?

My plans amounted to a long shower and sleeping until noon. I looked at him, weighing him up, and something in his confidence made me want to find out how far he would go.

—And what’s your name? —I asked, using the bar as a shield.

—Adrián. —He leaned in, just enough for only me to hear—. Although tonight I’m going to get you to call me something else. I’m going to make you scream my name with my cock inside you so loud the whole street hears it.

The blush gave me away before I could answer. I felt my pussy clench on its own, wetness already trickling between my legs and the anger of a stranger getting me like this with three sentences. I’m not an easy woman, and I meant to make that clear.

—If you think you’re going to get me to spread my legs for you tonight, you’re dreaming —I told him, holding his gaze—. Go find someone else to fall at your feet. That’s not me.

—We’ll see.

He winked at me, grabbed his beer, and went to sit at a table in the back. From there he watched me the rest of the night. Not in an uncomfortable way, but patiently, like someone waiting for fruit to fall from the tree on its own. Every time I looked up, he was staring at me, and every time I took a second longer to look away. I could feel his eyes nailed to my ass every time I bent down to pick something up, and it was taking everything I had not to lock myself in the bathroom and put two fingers in me to the hilt just to calm down.

***

I closed after midnight. I thought he would have left ages ago, so I turned off the lights and started walking home along the empty sidewalk. Then a hand caught my shoulder and stopped me dead.

It was Adrián. Apparently he wasn’t the type to give up.

—Where are you going, princess? We had a date. Don’t you remember?

I should have told him no. Instead I shrugged, smiled faintly, and kept walking beside him. We talked for hours, first about unimportant things and then about things that mattered. He had a way of listening that was disarming, as if every word I said were the only one that mattered in the world. By the time I realized it, I had told him more than I tell almost anyone.

—Do you want to come up to my place? —he asked when we stopped in front of an apartment building—. One more drink and I’ll call you a taxi, I promise.

I hesitated. I had just met him, I barely knew anything about him. But curiosity got the better of me, and so did the certainty that if I went home, I’d spend the night thinking about what I hadn’t done, with my fingers between my legs imagining his mouth.

—One drink —I agreed—. Just one.

***

His apartment was decorated in black and white, with not a single colorful object breaking the harmony. Everything looked chosen with precise intent, as if nothing were out of place by accident. He invited me to sit on the sofa and came back from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine.

—I have to confess something to you, Mara —he said, sitting in front of me, not beside me—. My intentions with you are not the most decent.

A mischievous little-boy smile lit up his face, as if he had just gotten away with some prank.

—Since I saw you behind that bar, I’ve imagined you in a thousand ways —he went on—. I imagined the exact sound you’d make when I shove my cock all the way in. I imagined how your voice trembles when you stop being in control, how hard your tits will get when I bite your nipples, how your cunt will drip down the insides of your thighs.

The heat rose through my body again, but I didn’t let it reach my brain. I stayed firm. I wasn’t going to give in that easily, no matter how insultingly confident he was playing his cards.

—I want to show you something —he said, and held out his hand to me.

I followed him up a spiral staircase to a locked door on the upper floor. This guy has a villain-from-a-novel complex, I thought, half amused, half nervous. He took a key from his pocket, turned it in the lock, and opened the door.

My mouth fell open without a sound coming out of it.

—What is all this? —I managed to say at last.

The walls were painted such a dark burgundy they looked black. A pair of leather handcuffs hung from the ceiling. Anchors, rings, and a polished wooden cross fixed in one corner jutted out from the walls. But what truly stole my breath was the padded bench in the center, with straps for wrists and ankles, waiting like a patient animal.

There was a round bed with wine-colored sheets. More straps came from the headboard. In glass display cases gleamed objects whose names I didn’t know and whose use I could only guess at: braided ropes, bottles of oil, blindfolds, dildos of different sizes, a shiny black anal plug, things with shapes that made my thighs tighten involuntarily.

—This is too much —I murmured, overwhelmed, with the feeling that my legs might give out.

I felt his hand slide along my back. He came close to my ear, and his breath raised goosebumps all over my neck.

—I told you tonight you’d end up screaming my name. Don’t be scared. We don’t have to use any of this. Yet. —He paused deliberately, letting the word hang there—. But I’m dying to tear your clothes off and fuck you against that wall until your cunt is full of my cum. What do you say? Will you accept?

My neurons stopped working in order. Desire hurt, physical, urgent, a pressure in my clit that begged me to give in. I turned and kissed him, hungry, expecting him to kiss me back with the same fury.

He didn’t.

He grabbed my ponytail and yanked my head back, separating me from him with a firmness that left me breathless.

—That’s not how things work here, princess —he said, looking down at me—. I’m in charge here and you obey. You agreed. We won’t use anything you don’t want. But now you’re going to be a good girl and take your clothes off, slowly, so I can look at you properly.

His voice was low and steady, without a shred of violence in it, and that was exactly what made it irresistible. He didn’t rip anything off me, didn’t shove me, didn’t force me. He just waited, hands crossed behind his back, while the silence in the room grew thicker and thicker. I could feel every heartbeat pounding in my neck, in my wrists, in my swollen clit, in places where I hadn’t known pulse could be felt.

—And if I tell you no? —I tried, with the last thread of pride I had left.

—Then I’ll call you that taxi and you’ll go home to your shower and your empty bed —he answered, unruffled—. You’re free to walk through that door whenever you want. That’s the one rule that isn’t negotiable. But we both know you didn’t come up here to leave, and that cunt of yours is dying for me to open it.

Part of me wanted to rebel, to tell him I wasn’t his toy, to remind him of everything I’d sworn at the bar hours earlier. Another part, the one in charge tonight, already had my fingers on the first button of my blouse.

I undressed slowly, as he had asked, feeling his gaze travel over every centimeter of skin that was left exposed. I unfastened the buttons one by one until the blouse opened and let him see the black bra squeezing my tits. I turned my back to take off my skirt, bending more than necessary, knowing the thong was wedged between my ass cheeks. When I turned back around, I slipped off my bra and let it fall to the floor. My nipples were as hard as stones, so much they hurt. I hooked my thong with two fingers and pulled it down my legs, and I felt the soaked string peel away from my cunt with a wet tug. He didn’t touch me. He waited, patient, just like at the bar, until I was standing in front of him, breathless and with my clothes in a pile at my feet.

—Very good —he said, and the approval in his voice lit me up more than any touch—. See how easy it is when you stop fighting? Spread your legs. I want to see that cunt of yours.

I parted my feet without thinking. He crouched slowly in front of me, opened my lips with two fingers, and gave a low whistle at the sheen.

—You’re soaked, princess. This is all for me. —He ran the tip of his middle finger along my slit, from bottom to top, without quite entering—. How long have you been like this? Since the bar?

—Yes… —I admitted, voice breaking.

—Good girl.

He took me to the wall and pressed me against it, still unhurried. One hand held my wrists above my head; the other slid down my side, slow, measuring every reaction. He pinched one nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting until a moan slipped out of me, then the other, the same way, until they were both throbbing like embers. He sucked one while the other kept being twisted, and I tried to grind myself against his thigh, searching for any friction I could get. Every time I tried to speed things up, he slowed down, punishing my impatience with stillness.

—Ask for it —he whispered against my neck—. If you want more, you’re going to have to ask for it. Politely.

I held out as long as I could. Not long.

—Please —I gave in, and the word cost me and freed me at the same time.

—Please what?

—Please... master. Touch me. Put it in me.

I felt him smile against my skin. He lowered his free hand between my legs and shoved two fingers inside me at once, knuckles deep. A cry slipped out of me, and he swallowed it with his mouth, biting my lower lip while he finger-fucked me, curling his fingers upward to hit a spot that made me rise onto my toes.

—Look at how you squeeze —he murmured—. This cunt is already asking me for my cock.

He pulled his fingers out, shiny with my wetness, and shoved them into my mouth. I sucked them without being asked, tasting myself, while he opened his pants with the other hand. He tugged them down with his underwear to his thighs and his cock sprang free, hard and thick, the swollen head pointing at my navel. My mouth watered just looking at it.

—Kneel —he ordered.

I knelt without thinking. He grabbed my ponytail and brought his cock to my lips, rubbing it against my closed mouth.

—Open.

I opened. He slid it in slowly, first the tip, leaving it resting on my tongue so I could taste it, and then he pushed all the way to the back of my throat. My eyes filled with tears and I choked, but he didn’t let go of my ponytail. He pulled it out, let me breathe, and pushed it back in, setting the rhythm, fucking my mouth with short, deep thrusts while he held my head against the wall. Saliva ran down my chin, dripping in streams between my tits. Every time he drove it to the hilt, his balls slapped against my chin, and I could taste the salty precum running over my tongue.

—That’s it, good girl, take it all. You love sucking my cock, don’t you, princess? —he panted—. Look at all that drool.

I nodded with my mouth full, choking, and he laughed softly. He let go of my ponytail, pulled his cock out of my mouth slick with spit, and lifted me by the elbows. He turned me against the wall, with my hands pressed to the cold tiles, and made me spread my legs with a light kick to my ankles. I felt the head of his cock rubbing my cunt slit, wetting, searching for the entrance.

—Ask again.

—Fuck me, please, master. Put it in me.

He slammed it in with one thrust, all the way, until his hips hit my ass. I screamed against the wall. I felt him open me from the inside, so thick it burned, so deep it stole my breath. Adrián stayed still for a second, enjoying how my cunt squeezed him, and then he started moving. First slowly, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in, each thrust harder than the last. He grabbed my hips, digging his fingers into my flesh, and started fucking me for real, with hard blows that made the wet slap of my arousal and the smack of his thighs against my ass ring out.

—This is what you wanted, isn’t it, slut? —he panted by my ear—. The cock you’d been staring at in the bar for hours. Say it.

—Yes, I wanted it, I wanted it all…

He brought a hand around front and found my clit with two fingers. He started rubbing it in circles at the same rhythm as his thrusts, and my orgasm shot up my legs so fast I didn’t even have time to warn him. I came hard against the wall, nails scraping the tiles, drenching his cock and my thighs. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking me while I came, stretching the orgasm until my knees gave out and he had to hold me by the waist so I wouldn’t fall.

He pulled his cock out, shiny and dripping, and dragged me to the round bed. He laid me on my back, opened my legs with his knees, and sank into me again, now looking me in the eyes. He held my wrists against the mattress above my head and fucked me slowly, savoring it, measuring every thrust to reach deep inside me. He sucked my nipples one after the other, nibbling them until I was whimpering, and then dragged his teeth over my neck.

—Again —he whispered—. Come again for me.

He lifted my legs and put them over his shoulders, folding me in half. From that angle he drove deeper still, and every stroke tore a broken moan out of me. I dug my nails into his back, marking him, and came a second time around his cock in spasms. He held on, groaning, teeth clenched.

He flipped me over as if I weighed nothing. He put me on all fours, grabbed my ponytail and yanked my head back, and went into me from behind again. His thighs slapped against my ass with a wet sound, and I buried my face in the burgundy sheets, biting them so I wouldn’t scream too loudly. He spanked my right ass cheek, then my left, and I felt the heat rising until they were red.

—Scream —he ordered—. I want you screaming my name. Say it.

—Adrián! —I blurted out, with no strength left to resist.

—Louder.

—Adrián, fuck, don’t stop, come inside me, please!

He sped up until it was brutal, never letting go of my ponytail. I felt his body tense, felt his cock swell inside me, and suddenly he drove his hips all the way in and came with a rough groan, filling my cunt with hot spurts I could feel throbbing inside. He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed there, still hard, letting me feel every pulse while he stroked my back with one hand.

When he came out, I felt semen trickling down the insides of my thighs. He bent down to look, satisfied, and ran the tip of one finger along my slit, collecting it.

—Good girl —he said again, and slid the finger into my mouth for me to lick clean.

That night I discovered that surrender wasn’t losing. That giving up control, to the right person and in the right place, could be the most liberating thing I had done in years. Adrián kept every promise he’d made, one by one, with the patience of a man who knows time is on his side.

And yes, before the night was over, I screamed his name. So loud I’m sure half the street heard me, just like he had warned me at the bar, over a beer and a smile I should never have served.